


the care and feeding of orcas

by orphan_account



Category: Free!
Genre: Gen, M/M, makoto is not as good at taking care of himself as he is at taking care of others, mostly a gen fic but i guess you could see it as pairing?, unhealthy eating habits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 10:13:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4300863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto isn't the best at taking care of himself. Luckily, he has Haru to fill in the cracks of his self-care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the care and feeding of orcas

**Author's Note:**

> written for a prompt on the iwatobiswimclub kink meme:
> 
> https://iwatobiswimclub.dreamwidth.org/3042.html?thread=4005346#cmt4005346 
> 
> "MakoHaru or RinHaru - Bad Eating Habits. Not like a full on disorder but maybe starting to go there or maybe it's just a very mild concern, but Haru starts to notice his bf isn't eating healthy and so he makes it a point to make them eat well (I imagine if it's Rin it's because he trains so hard he forgets/abstains and if it's Makoto he's always so worried about everyone else that he just literally forgets sometimes) fluff is appreciated X3"

It’s not every day Haru thinks this, because it’s incredibly rare that it applies. It’s just that his kind, compassionate, energetic best friend is only matching one out of three of those adjectives. 

Simply put, Makoto looks terrible today. 

The first thing he does when he walks through Haru’s door is sigh and cross slowly through the house until he gets to the sofa. Then he just pitches himself onto it, like it’s no big deal that he didn’t even bother with a “hello” before wanting to sleep. 

Of course it’s not the first time this has happened. Last time it was the hectic studying for finals. The time before that, he’d been putting in extra laps on top of volunteering on top of taking care of the twins. The time before that, it had been a series of headaches that kept him in his glasses for a week because his contacts were too uncomfortable on his eyes. 

Haru assumes that the common denominator is a lack of sleep. 

Yet, tomorrow, when Makoto scolds him about being late for school and rushes him out the door without a thought to his own breakfast despite allowing Haru to have mackerel on toast, Haru has the beginnings of a thought. 

Just a small thought. A fleeting ‘Makoto should have eaten breakfast.’ Nothing more to it than that. 

But, when lunch time rolls around, Makoto gets caught up in keeping Nagisa from tormenting Rei about Rei’s (admittedly unwarranted) bemoaning of a 91 on a test. So caught up, in fact, that his lunch remains untouched when they’re supposed to come back to class. 

Haru says nothing, not yet, but the thought from that morning comes back updated and a little louder. ‘Makoto should have eaten lunch.’

It isn’t until swim practice that the thought becomes too loud to ignore. 

That’s when Makoto blacks out during swim practice. 

He’d been doing his backstroke practice as usual, keeping his nose above the water and taking his breaths in time like any good swimmer would. The only problem is that in the middle of the pool, towards the end of practice, he just… stops. 

Haru, in the lane beside him, is conscious of Makoto’s steady presence behind him. But then that presence halts, and Haru is suddenly hyper aware that something is very not okay. 

Haru stops just seconds after Makoto. But even that’s too late, because Makoto’s head is already starting to sink beneath the water, and some water had gotten up his nose and into his mouth, and it was on pure instinct that Haru pulled Makoto into a headlock and dragged him to the side of the pool. 

To his surprise, Rei and Nagisa were already waiting—they seemed to have noticed what was going on once Haru started pulling Makoto out of the water—and they helped Haru hoist Makoto out of the pool. 

It’s nothing compared to the horror of training camp, when Makoto could have died out there in the ocean, but it’s still enough to give Haru a scare. His relief when Makoto sits up and coughs up water almost immediately is palpable. 

“Makoto,” Haru prompts. 

There’s really only one question that Haru could be asking, and Makoto’s cheeks turn a little pink as he recognizes what just happened.

“Haru—I’m sorry, I just,” Makoto answers, throat a little dry still, and Gou hands him a water bottle that Makoto easily accepts. It’s a few minutes before he tries speaking again. “Thank you.” 

Haru is not the most patient person in situations like these. He stares his best friend down, eyes level at all times, and it’s with some conviction that he repeats, “Makoto.” 

The same question as before. The unsaid, ‘What happened? Why did you pass out in the middle of the pool? Do you need to go to the hospital?’

“I’m alright, Haru, I promise,” Makoto answers, and slowly he stands, but there’s something funny with his eyes, like he can’t see. A few deep breaths later and Makoto is blinking and seems fine, but Haru is unconvinced. 

Without a word, he drags Makoto over to a bench nearby. 

“Thank you,” Makoto says as he takes a seat, still breathing deeply, as if the movement is overexerting him. “I should probably head home for the day, huh?” 

Under that is, ‘I won’t be able to get better while I’m here.’ 

Haru narrows his eyes. “Eat something when you get home,” he says, and Makoto looks a little sheepish. It occurs to Haru, suddenly, that Makoto might have looked so terrible last night because he hadn’t eaten dinner. A frown builds on Haru’s face, and it’s not without warrant that he takes hold of Makoto’s shoulder. “Wait here.” 

If Makoto is confused when Haru suddenly stands up and hurries to the locker room, he doesn’t show it. By the time Haru comes back, Makoto is lying down again, and he looks like he could doze off. 

But Haru knows the answer now. 

It isn’t sleep Makoto needs when he looks so terrible. It’s something to eat. 

Finals week, Haru remembers—the last time it happened. Makoto’s mother had commented that Makoto studied straight through lunch and often wouldn’t join them for dinner. She’d been under the impression that Makoto would eat at Haru’s home, or had a stash of food in his room.

Extra laps and volunteering—the time before that. Makoto had been volunteering when he normally had dinner time. He came home exhausted and slept peacefully till morning, never bothering to get dinner once he was home, and would often skip breakfast as he was wont to do. 

Headaches—the time before that. Makoto’s headaches made him nauseous without fail, and Haru remembered never pushing him to eat when he was feeling queasy because of a headache. But the headaches tended to last for ages, and if no one pressured Makoto to eat even when he was feeling queasy, then he must not have eaten at all. 

Those times, it had just been a few missed meals and thus had created a more minor calorie deficiency. This, though. 

An entire day without eating—then swimming vigorously on an empty stomach. 

Haru sighs through his nose. He’d grabbed their things, but Makoto doesn’t look like he should be sitting up and trying to change just now. So Haru’s glad, at least, that he brought something of use to Makoto. 

His lunch bag, untouched since lunch, is somewhat roughly pressed into Makoto’s hands. 

“You won’t feel better until you actually eat something,” Haru says, and his expression isn’t one to be trifled with. 

Makoto must know Haru knows best, because he doesn’t protest. It occurs to Haru that he must have been starving by now—yet he never stopped practice or tried to grab anything between classes. 

Haru lets Makoto eat without interruption, but there’s another question gnawing at his mind. ‘Why didn’t you make an effort to eat? You had your lunch. You could have eaten it sometime. So why didn’t you?’

Once Makoto is half done with his bento, he starts to push it away. Haru frowns at him, but Makoto’s face is a little pale, and Haru is very much aware that if he wants Makoto to be okay, he can’t push him to eat too much at once when it’s been over a day since his last meal.

So Haru sighs and wraps the bento back up and puts it back in Makoto’s lunch bag. 

Without a word to Gou or Nagisa or Rei—Haru is sure they’ll understand—he helps Makoto pull a shirt and a jacket on over his head, then does the same for himself, and they’re on their way home. 

Because Makoto looks so tired, Haru doesn’t want to spring anything on him till they’re home, and Haru leads Makoto to his, Haru’s, house. It’s mostly because he thinks the peace and quiet will be good for Makoto while he’s recouping. But there’s a worry that Makoto’s mother will be angry with Haru for not making Makoto eat breakfast or lunch, and he doesn’t want her to worry over her son if she doesn’t need to.

So Haru helps Makoto get comfortable on the small couch, and then he asks. 

“Why didn’t you eat today?” 

Makoto blinks his eyes back open—had they already drifted shut?—and smiles weakly at his friend. “Ah. I got caught up doing other things. Sorry, Haru, I didn’t mean to make you leave practice early today.” 

“I didn’t have to.” A dual meaning; Haru was never made to do anything, much less something that was necessary for Makoto’s safety—Haru had come because he cared. And two, he shouldn’t needed had to leave early because Makoto was perfectly capable of taking care of his own needs, so why hadn’t he?

Makoto laughs. “Yeah. Sorry, Haru. It won’t happen again.” 

Haru stares down at him, locking eyes as if asking, ‘Are you sure? Can I trust you?’

“I promise I’ll start doing better, Haru, really.” There’s something very genuine in Makoto’s face, and Haru is at least partially satisfied. “I thought I’d been doing better, but I guess I have work to do, huh?” 

Haru’s stare is penetrating—‘so you knew?’ 

“Last time was Finals week,” Makoto says, as if Haru doesn’t already know. “It didn’t get this bad, though.” 

“You still ate lunch and breakfast, usually,” Haru interjects. “And before that was volunteering and headaches.” They’re one-word placeholders, in Haru’s mind. Placeholders in a category he doesn’t want Makoto to revisit.

Makoto seems almost impressed, but he shouldn’t. There’s a language without words that they use, and Haru is just as fluent as Makoto. Of course he remembers the times Makoto has been hurting.

“Don’t do it again,” Haru says. He feels like he’s repeating himself, even if he’s only said it once. After a moment, he sighs and looks away. “You have calories to make up. I’ll make dinner when you’re ready for it.” 

It’s all Makoto can do to yawn and lie back down on Haru’s lap before he’s out like a light. 

Haru supposes he’ll have to cook later, because Makoto is heavy on his lap. And if, in his role as Makoto’s protector, he has to be a makeshift pillow, then so be it.


End file.
